Love like Poison
by angel of the silver feather
Summary: Role reversal AU. In which Will Graham- teacher and part time profiler- is the Chesapeake Ripper and Hannibal Lecter is an unusual psychiatrist who's called in to consult for the F.B.I. A meeting between the two leads to a relationship that will leave no one unscathed. Some people are just meant to meet and not always for the best.


The past is never where you think you left it.

- Katherine Anne Porter

_Everything is white and wet, stretching on and on as far as he can see. No trees, no animals… just the unforgiving expanse of thick, white snow. He thinks he hates the color. He knows the sky is drab and grey above him, obscuring the sun and whatever warmth it may bring. The air is cold- so cold that every breath is pure agony, his insides nearly freezing with the frigid draft that saturates his lungs. His body hurts and he knows his feet are bleeding, but he doesn't stop. He can't stop. _

_He has to find her. _

_He wants to call out, to scream her name but he opens his mouth and all that comes out is a white puff of air. So he keeps on walking, forcing his tiny legs to push through the knee-deep snow that makes every step a struggle. He needs to find her, but all he can see is white. No flash of pale gold hair or big, honeyed eyes anywhere. He hopes to hear a child's voice calling out to him (Annibal?) but even the slick sounds of his own pursuit are muted in his ears. _

_He walks for what feels like hours- and wonders how he is still alive when he shouldn't be- when he sees it. A blurry, dark spot far in front of him. He stops in shock and then he is moving. _

_He is close and he thinks he sees a glint of gold amongst all the black. _

_Then, he is there and all he can see is red. _

Hannibal Lecter jerks awake with a choked gasp, his sister's name a reverent mantra in the confines of his mind.

_Mischa. _

He doesn't sleep again that night.

Freddie Lounds has to be the most _tasteless_ journalist to ever exist. She is obnoxious, inexorable and utterly shameless. Her articles are also wonderfully detailed, which, as far as he is concerned, is their only redeeming quality. But while the woman and her words are vile, this particular serial killer interests him quite a bit. And he has no doubt- like Jack- that this man is killing the girls despite the appalling lack of bodies, save the recent Elise Nichols.

Will almost- almost, mind you- wishes that he'd accepted Jack's offer to consult on the case, but he dismisses the thought just as quickly. It is too risky, no matter how tempting the fresh scenes are. He'll have to be satisfied with the ones he himself is responsible for. And he can't really have additional F.B.I scrutiny curtailing his extracurricular activities. Rejecting Jack also has the added benefit of keeping Alana Bloom happy. She is so easy to manipulate with her mixed interest in him.

He looks up from his tablet as he hears footsteps approaching and puts it away just in time to see none other than Jack Crawford enter his classroom with Alana in tow. Maybe he should have got the hell out of there after the end of his lecture instead of lurking around to read the article. Oh well, too late now. Jack looks displeased and his frown only deepens when his eyes fall on Will. Apparently, he is still miffed about his refusal to work for him. Jack's not a man who took rejection happily or even calmly. Alana is frowning at Jack and he has the feeling that if it were up to her, the head of BAU wouldn't get within a 10 mile radius of Will. It's almost adorable, her protectiveness. In another life, he could have loved her.

"I suppose you haven't reconsidered." Jack grits out in lieu of a greeting, looming over Will in a vain attempt to be domineering. He fights off a smile. It would be… inappropriate.

He doesn't bother to dignify the remark with a response and instead offers a timid smile to Alana, whose expression softens for a second before she returns to glaring daggers at Jack.

"I just read Lounds' article on Tattlecrime," he says, finally focusing on a fuming Jack, "Tell me, how many confessions as of yet?"

"Twelve dozen, last time I checked. No one knew the details until she published that damn article. Will, are you sure you won't reconsider?" The man was almost as persistent as Lounds.

"I told you already, Jack, I can't do field work. I'll help you with this guy any way I can, but I am not going out there. It's not healthy for me. Dr Bloom agrees." Jack nods grudgingly, making no effort to hide his displeasure but he apparently doesn't want a repeat of yesterday's argument-or rather, a three way screaming match- so he lets the matter drop. For now. Alana relaxes at his acquiescence and comes to stand by Will. Her attraction to him is all too obvious despite her earnest efforts to hide it and her struggle to contain it is a constant source of amusement for him, which is why he often gives out signals that suggest he reciprocates the feeling.

Humans are so very interesting to play with. But dogs are better company.

"So, why are you guys here?" he asks as he packs his tablet and his notes, waiting. He's quite certain Jack didn't come here only to try to get him to work for him again. He wouldn't have brought Alana if that were the case.

Alana is the one who answers though, her voice somewhat nervous. "There's this colleague of mine… Dr Hannibal Lecter. He was my mentor in John Hopkins and is currently running a practice in Baltimore. We were wondering if you would work with him to catch this killer."

Oh, so that's why she is nervous. She wants him to work with a psychiatrist but is quite aware of his hatred for them.

"You want me to work with a psychiatrist… are you sure he's not going to forgo the investigation in favor of psychoanalyzing me?" It sounds presumptuous, Will knows, but experience has proved that he is like catnip to psychiatrists. Fortunately (for him) their futile attempts to 'figure him out' were generally laughable at best. He's even managed to make a few cry by turning their own tricks on them. Sweet Alana is quick to reassure him though.

"No, Will. You know I wouldn't do that to you. Hannibal is different."

_Is he now? _

Will nods and smiles at her. "If you say so."

"The two of you are going to see him now. Copies of the case files are in Dr Bloom's car. Get a move on." Jack leaves with another heated glare at Will, his steps brisk and loud. Will briefly toys with the idea of leaving a little something for dear Uncle Jack. Perhaps the Chesapeake Ripper should come out and say 'hi'.

Silence reigns between the two of them as he follows Alana to her car. He knows she is nervous about being alone with him as she fears her own inability to keep her interest in him- personal and professional, though mostly the former- in check. They part at the parking lot as he heads towards his own car. Riding with her would have offered him a great opportunity to watch her squirm, but he wasn't all that keen on having her drop him back home.

As he follows her Hybrid, he hopes that this new psychiatrist will be at least a little interesting.

Will had expected them to meet the psychiatrist in the practice Alana had mentioned. But he realizes, as her car pulls into a large, lovely house in the rich, residential suburbs of Baltimore, that the meeting is to occur at the man's home. The house is quite beautiful, possessing a quality that stands out even amidst the other, opulent residences in the area.

Alana's movements, as she leads him to the door, tells him that she is familiar with this place. She is at more at ease here than he has ever seen her before. Dr Lecter must be a very good friend of her.

"Hey, Will, Hannibal doesn't know that two of us are coming. Jack kinda sprung that on me at the last minute." She tells him as they wait by the door. He is not entirely surprised. He knows how Jack can be, even though he has not known him for long. The door opens mere seconds after she finishes, revealing a tall man who Will assumes is the esteemed Dr Lecter. He certainly looks the part.

The man's face breaks into a small, but genuine smile at the sight of Alana but it acquires a somewhat confused tilt as he takes Will in. Alana is quick to introduce him.

"Hannibal, this is Will Graham. He teaches profiling at the Academy and Jack wants his help on the profile of this killer."

"Hello, Dr Lecter." He extends his hand, twisting his lips into a thin smile. It is rare for him to initiate contact, but exceptions can be made. Lecter grips it with his own and gives a firm shake. His hands are like that of an artist, fingers long and nimble. And to Will's relief, there is no gleeful recognition or morbid curiosity in that gaze as they exchange pleasantries.

The interior of Lecter's home is even more pleasing than the exterior, elegant and quite stunning. However, Will finds that they tell him little about the man himself which is intriguing in itself. He can generally get a good sense of people from where they live. Lecter guides the two of them to his sitting room and quickly excuses himself to grab some refreshments.

"This is a nice place," he tells Alana when they are alone, fidgeting a little on the plush couch. Some of his restlessness is genuine, but most of it is a show meant to broadcast his uneasiness with people.

"Hannibal has excellent taste," she replies fondly and the man in question enters the room, carrying a tray with two glasses of deep red wine and another that contains an amber liquid Will assumes is beer. He hands the latter to Alana, passes a glass of wine to Will with a smile and settles on the chair opposite them with his own in hand. There is an easy grace to the man, even when he is motionless, that Will finds alluring.

"So, what is this about exactly? Agent Crawford told me that he'd like my help profiling a killer, but he gave me no details." Will tries in vain to place the doctor's smooth, exotic accent. It sounds European but he can't quite pinpoint the source. But he can admit that it's a voice he'd love to fall asleep to. He resists the urge to frown at his own thoughts.

He tunes out Alana as she replies in favor of observing the psychiatrist. He has a remarkable face, with high, carved cheekbones, thin lips and dark eyes that are a unique mixture of brown and red. It's not traditionally handsome, but it is rather striking. Very much so. The slate grey button-down and black slacks does not reveal much, but Will easily recalls the effortless grace of his movements and _approves_. Then, there's the voice. And those lovely hands. Yes, he most certainly is interested and not quite in the way he expected.

It is a rare occurrence for him to be physically attracted to a person. Even when he is, it is usually short-lived as the attraction wears off once he manages to unravel the mind of the person. He usually finds them dull and malleable afterwards. Alana is an example of this, though she is too entertaining to bore him completely.

He hopes that Dr Hannibal Lecter will prove to a little less mundane.

Maroon eyes capture his before he can look away and he is momentarily annoyed at being caught staring. But something in that gaze causes him to smile none too innocently and Dr Lecter shifts his eyes back to Alana. He too returns his attention to her words.

"- and so Will is here with me. Actually, I'm only here to introduce you two. I won't be working on the case."

No surprise there. Alana isn't all that comfortable with profiling despite her remarkable observational skills. She prefers to work with traumatized women and children. He wonders what Lecter's specialty is.

"I'll get the files then." Will says as he rises from his seat, placing the untouched glass of wine back on the tray. He leaves the two of them and makes his way to Alana's car. Most of it is information about the missing (_dead_) girls. There is little to work with thanks to the lack of bodies and crime scenes. They don't even know where most of the girls were taken from. Figuring out why the Nichols girl's body was left behind would be a good start. Then again, Will has never needed much in the way of evidence; his ability is to _connect_ with killers, letting him see things others wouldn't. Of course, his empathy would work on anyone but normal people's minds are so… bland. Not worth the effort.

Alana is on the phone when he returns with the files, sounding distressed. He throws Lecter a questioning glance and receives a shrug in answer. He sets the files on the couch beside Alana and sits down, waiting for her to finish. All he can gather from her replies is that she is needed somewhere immediately. And sure enough, she disconnects the call and gets up, face set into a pained grimace.

"Is everything alright, Alana?" Lecter asks, rising with her. So does Will.

"Yeah, I mean, No. It's one of my patients. There's been an emergency and I need to go. Do you… can the two of you manage?"

Will nods, all too pleased with the sudden turn of events. He would like to interact with the doctor without a buffer. "I know the way back. It's fine, Alana."

But she still seems hesitant, evidently worried about her abrupt departure. Will's legendary aversion to anything that walks on two legs and can talk probably has something to do with that.

"We'll manage, Alana." Lecter tells her calmly. That decides her and she practically flees the house with a flurry of apologies directed at the two of them. How like Alana to be so concerned for those under her care.

"She cares very much for her patients," Lecter says into the awkward silence in her wake, echoing his thoughts.

"That she does." He debates for a second on what course of action to pursue and finally decides to be quick and blunt. "Just so we're clear, Dr Lecter, are you going to psychoanalyze me?"

The older man blinks at him, surprised by the sudden question, and then smiles, little sheepishly.

"I'll admit that I am curious, but I'll try to rein it in. Though you should know that I can't shut it off just like that. Observing is what we do, after all."

At least he got an honest answer.

"Let me warn you then, that you won't like me when I'm psychoanalyzed. Plenty have tried, Doctor." He expects the doctor to be offended or at least put off, but all he does he stare intensely at Will, the remnants of a smile still playing on his lips.

"Then I suppose we can just socialize like adults. Please, call me Hannibal."

He doesn't strike Will as one to socialize all that freely; he is quite sure that the doctor's reserved air and stoic countenance is not just for show. Even Will can't quite _read_ him, and that in itself is enough to pique his interest. Still, for a second, he is tempted to tell the man he doesn't find him all that interesting just to gauge his reaction. But he decides against it in the end as he is sure that he'll end up eating his words.

"Call me Will, then."

Hannibal feels a surge of mild panic when Alana leaves, leaving him alone with one Will Graham. He notes the worried glances she sends Professor Graham as he rushes out and remembers her saying once that he was 'not a fan of people'. Hannibal isn't overly fond of socializing either- most people are dreadful company and some are just downright rude- but his profession and philanthropist tendencies render it necessary, so he can fake it well enough.

Although, he is genuinely interested in interacting with the younger man. Maybe a little _too_ interested, hence the panic.

He's torn between surprise and relief when he bluntly addresses the topic of psychoanalysis. The ensuing banter only serves to further promote his fascination; he is not used to talking so… freely and the change is more than welcome, at least in the current company. It is all too easy to see that Graham is unique, and not simply because of his empathy. There is something about the man that's _different_, though he can't really pinpoint what. But if he is honest with himself, he can admit that it is not just his interest in the teacher's mind or personality that causes his gaze to wander and linger on his handsome, somewhat boyish face, taking in the artfully tousled brown curls, stunning blue-grey eyes, the light stubble and those pale pink lips. Clad in a simple, but fitting suit, Will Graham seems far too _beautiful_ for a teacher.

He surprises himself by offering his name, a spur of the moment decision, but is relieved when the invitation is returned in kind. He already hopes that there will be further interactions between the two of them in the (_near_) future.

"So, Will-" he begins, liking how the name rolls off his tongue,"- shall we begin?"

** TBC**


End file.
